


apples for En Dwi Gast

by lokidreamsinbw



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Short Stories, Thorki - Freeform, all of these are AU, and sugar baby loki, criminal!thor, en dwi gast, partner in crime!loki, some are dark, some are sweet, some have dark thor in them, some of these stories are crazy, the major character death tag isn't for thor and loki, tivan appears in dulcis mortem, we have some sugar daddy grandmaster, will add more tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:18:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokidreamsinbw/pseuds/lokidreamsinbw
Summary: 1. apples for En Dwi Gast (Loki gifts the Grandmaster with the apples of youth, and falls in love with the Grandmaster's new gladiator. Thor/Loki, En Dwi Gast/Loki)2 .pineapple blue (high school AU, thorki. loki's easy, thor falls for him hard. pineapple popsicle involved. all the pining.)3. love has found U- Thor lost his ring. Loki might know where it is. AU.4. i'll be your sugar daddy (frostmaster, sugar baby loki, sugar daddy grandmaster5. i'll be your sugar daddy chapter 2.6. scar.(following their first time, Loki wonders about the future. Teeange thor and loki, incest).7. crescent moon (thorki, really short, incest, someone bit Loki's lip cause lovin')8. sweat and gasoline (thorki, criminal!thor, partner in crime!loki, Thor’s hot and horny in this one, loki’s just as bad)9. dulcis mortem - (dom Thor working in the BDSM club dulcis mortem gets invited to a party held by the owner of dulcis mortem Gast at his mansion. There’s a special reason why Thor’s invited. thorki, frostmaster, Tivan's here too, dub con)10. water running through his fingers (Loki dances for the king. AU.)11. you'll be the death of me--bankrobbers thor and loki AU





	1. apples for en dwi gast

"An apple? For me?"

Loki appeared from behind a decorative pillar.

He stands holding an apple in his open palm.

The Grandmaster's bedchambers are bathed by the fiery-red light of the setting sun. Loki's face is half flame, half ash.

Loki offers him the apple. His cuticles are the color of swirling fog.

A scratchy curtain moves in the breeze, and En Dwi Gast moves closer.

The apple's dark-red skin is sleek. Waxy finish, reflects the light dimly. A little striped it is, like a tiger. The stem-a candle wick.

"A gift," Loki says.

Once, there was a boy. A child of exile. He wore a cape woven of moonlight over his shoulders. His dark hair the shadows of winter trees. When En Dwi Gast offered him shelter, the boy reached inside his chest and offered his heart.

Later, they share the apple. With the silky sheets a silent ocean around them, En Dwi Gast watches Loki slice it. Eight pieces. The knife goes in and the juicy flesh gives way easily, tinting the room with sweetness.

"An apple plucked from the only tree blooming on a desolate planet," Loki says.

En Dwi Gast lays on his side, chin in hand. Black flowing robes, golden embroidments on its collar, heart bewitched.

"its fruit," Loki speaks as he removes the seeds, "the apples of youth and longevity."

He cradles the seeds in his palm and offers his hand to the Grandmaster.

En Dwi Gast closes his fingers around Loki's wrist.

"Each seed," Loki continues, "another year of life."

"And an apple?"

"Ten."

En Dwi Gast presses his mouth to the softness of Loki's palm. Uses the tip of his tongue to move the seeds into his mouth. One and then the other.

They dip the half-moon slices in honey and feast on them.

En Dwi Gast traces the shape of Loki's lips with an apple slice, coats them in honey.

Thick and golden it drips down the sides of Loki's mouth, warm rivulets of sunlight.

 

 

The arena glints in the noon light like a textured coin. So many spectators-pomegranate seeds in their velvety beds. Blood smeared amidst boot prints like wine seeping from the mushy bodies of crushed grapes.

An exceptionally warm day. The games are about to end for the day. The people have tasted blood, and now wish for shade and food and rest.

To En Dwi Gast's right, Loki is omitting heat. Light black fabric catching the weak breeze, fluttering faintly. A pearl of sweat on his upper lip. A thin silvery sheen covering his neck. Gold bracelets speaking of Sakaar's tales around his wrists. He looks exhausted, daydreaming  in the sun.

En Dwi Gast gives one of his men on the ground the signal. The man disappears inside a shadowy opening in the wall, armor flashing like fish scales.

One of the enormous gates opens. A bearded giant steps out. The people love him. They cheer and whistle.

Loki wipes the sweat from his lip, adjusts the strap of his tunic, lids heavy.

En Dwi Gast crosses one leg over the other, his fist pressed to his mouth.

The second gate opens. A maddening shifting of gears. The Grandmaster's new gladiator, solid chest and golden hair, skin the color of milk and honey, heart strong and brave.

Loki's face changes. It's so subtle, like the sun shining just a little brighter, breaking the spell of a weaker light that makes everything look fuzzy, and En Dwi Gast looks away.

Six men help carry En Dwi Gast's beloved warrior, the bearded giant, from the arena.

No applause is heard for the golden-haired gladiator-his unexpected streak makes the men weary of him.

Only after the gladiator is escorted back to the chambers he shares with the other warriors, does Loki allow himself to briefly close his eyes. It feels like he hadn't blinked the entire time.

 

 

The next time Loki gives En Dwi Gast an apple, its skin is faded-orange. Loki says it's too hot inside the Grandmaster's bedchambers, asks if they can share it out on the balcony and En Dwi Gast agrees.

Fall has arrived and out there it's chilly and the wind pushing against their robes feels like a slithering evening spell winding itself around tree roots and caves of silent stone.

The apple has no stem this time. Its stripes of color are wavy and faint, coppery whispers, like rust.

Loki slices the apple in half. The blade keeps getting stuck. The apple's flesh is rough and dry.

He hands En Dwi Gast one half. Lets him take out the seeds himself.

"Should we send for some honey?" En Dwi Gast asks and the wind carries his words away.

In the cool fall light Loki's face looks grey.

Loki stares at his half. There's already a little bit of brown all over it, spreading slowly like a water-stain.

"There's none left," he replies, and a few moments later takes a bite.

En Dwi Gast takes a bite too, then winces.

The apple tastes sour.

 

 

The games continue. The arena floats in a steam of grey light, and there's the smell of rain and wet earth everywhere.

It's winter and En Dwi Gast's warriors fight poorly. It's the fog and the humidity, the small rations of food and their unheated chambers. When it's summer, they feel like they're a fragment of the sun itself, out of control and untouchable-all they need then is water and shade. The arrival of fall makes their hearts feel uneasy; the sun no longer reigns over all and the wind takes its place on the throne, whips in hand. They die in winter, massive men buried in unmarked graves. New ones arrive in the spring, swift as butterflies, young, courageous, and naïve.

Loki presses his bare hands to his mouth. The sleeves shift, exposing bony wrists.

A line of lightning zigzags across the skies, like light reflecting off a blade.

En Dwi Gast reaches inside his robes, takes out a pair of black leather gloves. He offers them to Loki who then questions where they came from all of a sudden. En Dwi Gast only smiles and watches Loki put them on.

It's another hour before the golden-haired gladiator makes his way onto the stage. Light rain is falling, cold and prickly, and the gladiator blinks it from his eyes, wipes his brow with repeated swipes of his forearm.

He raises his head and scans the crowd. The raindrops hit the massive stone structure and spray everywhere like diamond fragments. The sound they make, like beads scattering over tiles, coupled with the gladiator's gliding gaze, sends a painful jolt through Loki's heart.

The gladiator blinks and his eyes stay still for a moment. Someone moves to Loki's right-the hushed whisper of fabric- and the gladiator looks away.

En Dwi Gast slips one hand inside his robes and gives the signal with the other.

The second gate opens.

The silent crackle of leather in the Grandmaster's ears-Loki closing his hand over his own fist.

The warriors, they die in winter. They fall like trees. It's the fog making moving around the arena difficult. It's the rain causing them to slip and miss. It's foul play, a poisoned blade, turning a superficial wound deadly.

The gladiator dies in Loki's arms as En Dwi Gast watches from above, the ends of his hair caked in mud, holding on to Loki's wrist, the rain falling into his eyes.

 

 

Loki gives En Dwi Gast the third apple on a snowy afternoon.

There's no fire burning in the hearth. The icy wind pushing against the walls hours before, managed to break open a latch, and now that the wind has died down, the wooden shutters flap weakly. The hissing breeze snuffed out all the candles, and the sharp, blue scent of their smoke rests over the furniture like fog. An ancient lantern omits a rusty glow.

En Dwi Gast sits in a chair by the bed. He looks up when Loki emerges from the shadows, his eyes a hushed-earth color. He wipes at his lips with his fingertips.

Loki kneels on one knee at En Dwi Gasts's feet. Opens his cloak's clasp, lets the cloak fall from his shoulders. A soft heap of dark fabric, the empty space under the hood-a chasm.

Loki reaches inside his robes and pulls out an apple.

It's green.

Loki offers it to him.

The apple feels heavy in En Dwi Gast's palm. Heavy and cold. Its skin shiny and fragrant.

En Dwi Gast cups it between his palms and brings it close to his face. He presses his nose to it, breathes the fresh, tangy scent in, and his eyes flutter closed.

The snow falls slowly, like sparks from a bonfire, and Loki watches as En Dwi Gast presses his wide mouth to the apple and takes a bite.

The bite is breath and teeth and silence, the sticky sound of juice and dizzying sweetness.

He eats all of it, doesn't stop even when blood starts trickling down the corners of his mouth.

En Dwi Gast dies with Loki kneeling in front of him, and the shutters moving morosely In the breeze.

The snow keeps on falling.

 

 

A tiny _clin_ k wakes Loki up in the small hours of the night.

On his bedside table a candle is burning bright. Next to it, a small ceramic dish filled with honey, and a figure kneeling by his bed, its hair the most beautiful shade of gold.

 

 


	2. pineapple blue

 

(little ficlet. thorki. highschool au. loki’s easy. thor is totally crushing. popsicle involved.)

It’s the end of spring and it’s crazy hot.

The classroom is empty. Only Loki is there. He’s sitting cross-legged on a table in the back. His phone is balancing on his right knee. The glare coming from the screen just evaporates cause the room is flooded with sunlight. He’s got his sneakers on. _Stone Temple Pilots_ shirt. His hair is wet and he’s waiting for Thor to come back from the cafeteria.

“Go get me a popsicle,” Loki said earlier without looking up from his phone cause _crazy cool article about some dead author._

Thor popped his gum real loud, “what was that.”

They’ve been fucking for the last two months. Everyone at the school knew Loki was easy. They used to say he’s a good fuck, but also the meanest bitch ever.

Thor was open-minded. He also thought Loki was more than kinda hot, so he decided to give it a go.

All that casual fucking with Thor made Loki fall in love.

He would never admit to it, though.

Loki chipped some nail polish off his thumb, “The blue one.”

Thor stared at him, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth cause _rude_.

They were sitting side by side on the table, and Loki’s bitchiness combined with the mind blowing scent coming from his hair, made Thor wanna straddle those gorgeous thin hips and teach him some manners.

“Huh,” Thor hummed.

“What.”

“Still not spotting _please_ anywhere.”

“That’s cause I didn’t say please,” Loki said casually and the sun glinted off his bottom lip.

Loki bites the tip of his forefinger. Looks out the window.

There’s Thor making his way across the lawn, grey cut-off shirt, black jeans, man bun and a loose strand of golden hair fluttering over the side of his face.

Loki looks him over.

He read somewhere that if you let someone know just how much you love them, they’ll get bored and leave you.

Loki looks down at his phone. Stares at his homescreen. It’s a really blurry picture he took one day when Thor drove him home from school. Thor took the long way to get there and they drove through this neighborhood that was 95% trees and 5% houses.

Spring trees, their crowns looking like a puzzle of gold coins. Loki snapped a pic when Thor wasn’t looking. Cause the taste of Thor’s kisses lingered in his mouth, the touch of his rough hand was still warm on the inside of his thighs, and the leaves made him think of Thor’s hair falling into his eyes as he lowered his head to suck on the pulse point in Loki’s neck.

It was the first time Loki let Thor kiss him.

A little memory. Thor can stare at it and have no idea where it’s from or why Loki uses it as his homescreen.

Perfect.

Thor walks in.

“They only had one left,” he says from the doorway.

He takes the popsicle out of his back pocket and the crazy blue wrapper crackles between his fingers.

“Heads up.”

Thor tosses and Loki catches it.

It slams, hard and cold, into the center of his palm, icy condense sprinkling everywhere, trickling down his wrist.

Loki tosses the phone onto his bag on the floor and slides off the table.

Loki sits on the warm tiles and starts taking the wrapper off.

Thor joins him, big body next to Loki’s slim one, resting the back of his head against one of the table legs.

He studies Loki with a smirk, “I don’t get a thank you?”

Loki peels the slippery paper off, keeping his eyes on that rectangle block of shiny-blue ice revealing itself bit by bit, like a frosted hill emerging from the cover of some heavy grey fog.

“What for?” Loki says and the inner part of the paper is all sticky.

“Was kinda hot out there,” Thor continues, “lots of people, too. Most of ‘em smelled. Real bad. Had to wait ten minutes in line to get this for 'ya.”

Loki closes his lips around the tip of the popsicle. Sucks on it. Some of the ice melts, and the sweet pineapple juice pools on his tongue and just behind his bottom teeth.

He swallows, pulls his head back a little bit, and licks his lips.

“Poor you,” he says to Thor, his voice raw from the cold.

Thor watches as Loki crumples up the wrapper and sets it aside.

“Ha,” Thor says.

Loki quirks an eyebrow. Licks a circle around the middle of the popsicle.

“See, you owe me now,” Thor looks amused and more than kinda turned on.

Loki laps at the shiny rivulets trickling down the sides of the popsicle with the tip of his tongue.

It’s sweet-pink on icy-blue and watching it warms the blood in Thor’s veins.

Loki pauses to swallow, raises his brows all innocent, “do I?”

“Aha,” Thor hums this and adds, “how you gonna pay me back?”

Loki looks him right in the eye and closes his fingers tight around the popsicle’s smooth wooden stick.

He parts his lips and slowly slides all of the popsicle into his mouth 'till the frozen tip of it touches the back of his throat and his lips press against his knuckles.

He sucks on it hard and his cheeks become hollow.

Thor’s pupils are crazy wide and his tongue traces his bottom lip real slow, while his eyes stay fixed to that spot where you can still see just a little bit of blue peeking from between Loki’s wet lips.

Loki stays like this for another beat, then lazily pulls it out, inch by inch.

“You fucking tease,” Thor mumble but his voice is warm.

Loki holds the popsicle in his left hand, watches Thor.

Thor inches closer and runs his tongue over the popsicle from bottom to top, collecting sugary drops, then covers Loki’s mouth with his own.

Open-mouthed kiss. Loki’s cold lips and tongue turn warm under Thor’s lips.

Loki smells like pineapples and sunshine and Thor holds on to the back of his neck, fingers in his wet hair.

“I love having your mouth on me,” Thor says all breathy into Loki’s mouth.

Loki looks him in the eye, “is that so.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“We’ll try and work something out then,” Loki says.

Thor smirks like _day made_.

Loki pulls back to finish his popsicle.

Thor spots Loki’s phone.

He picks it up and smiles as his eyes move over Loki’s homescreen.

“We took the long way home,” Thor says and Loki almost chokes, “first time you let me kiss you.”

He remembers, Loki thinks.

Knowing that makes the popsicle 1000% sweeter. Cause hey, maybe all this casual fucking made Thor kinda fall for him too.

 

notes: this one’s for [@thorduna](https://tmblr.co/m8F5tqHzQ3sscFtt7WGKnxQ) ! Still hoping someone would write that die hard fic!


	3. love has found U

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor lost his ring. Loki might know where it is. AU.

“Anyone seen my ring?”

Thor looks around the dinner table.

“What ring, darling?” Frigga asks, fork hovering above a tomato slice the shape of a smile.

Odin just looks bored; he never wears any jewelry after all.

Thor touches his forefinger with his thumb, “brought a silver one back with me from Beijing. Had some writing on it.”

Odin looks up from his roaring mountain of mashed potatoes, “what did it say?”

Odin’s a linguistic freak so all of a sudden this is the most interesting thing they’ve talked about so far this evening.

Thor shrugs, “dunno.”

Loki chases some peas around his plate with his fork, “it probably said _don’t lose me_.”

Thor throws his body back in the chair kinda hard, tilts his head a bit and gives Loki a _ha_ look.

Loki quirks a brow without looking up from his plate cause he feels Thor’s _you fucking jerk_ look without having to actually see it, slips a finger under his choker and twirls it around while stabbing some peas.

Loki’s still in high school. Thor just got back from Beijing this morning, slept all day ‘till it was time for dinner. It was his _it’s a beautiful life no more school_ trip around the world. He’s been away for two months.

“Maybe a proverb?” Odin suggests, “a blessing.”

“I’ll check the bathroom later,” Frigga says, forever the optimistic, “maybe you took it off to wash your hands.”

“Thor _never_ washes his hands,” Loki says and his voice cracks a little bit.

Frigga smiles a little behind her napkin.

Loki clears his throat.

Thor gives a one-shouldered shrug and pulls out his phone, “whatever.”

“I really liked it,” Thor mutters after a while, while everyone’s finishing up, scrolling through his instagram posts.

Frigga touches Odin’s hand, asks him something about the garage door not coming up all the way and maybe they can call somebody to fix it and Odin starts mumbling all grumpy cause she knows he can do it and she never gives him a chance to do anything around the house, it’s always plumber here, repairman there.

Loki slumps back in his chair, leans the side of his face against his left shoulder, tucks his long wavy hair behind his ear. Thor looks up cause the pale flesh of the inner part of Loki’s wrist against the backdrop of the shadowed wall behind his little brother’s shoulders catches his eye.

Loki holds his gaze and parts his lips all slow. He makes sure Thor is watching and moves his tongue around in his mouth. He pushes his tongue forwards and then, a flash of silver. 

Thor’s ring between his teeth.

Thor’s heart skips inside his chest.

Loki closes his lips around the ring and it disappears inside his glorious little  mouth.

Thor looks from Odin to Frigga. They’re still talking about the garage thing, they haven’t noticed.

Thor bites his lips, texts Loki.

_give it back._

Loki reads the text under the table then texts Thor back.

_sucked it off your finger while U were sleeping. U didn’t feel a thing._

Thor smirks at him and slowly slides said finger all the way into his mouth, keeping his eyes on Loki.

Loki texts back right away.

_not fair._

Thor chuckles.

Loki texts Thor again.

_in case U were wondering, the inscription says **love has found U.**_

_U speak chinese now?_

_google,_ Loki texts back then adds:

_You didn’t say hello to me properly. Come kiss me later and you might get it back._


	4. i'll be your sugar daddy

Gast spotted the kid straight away-one of those glassy-eyed, dark-haired beauties that make you recall memories of sweet spring rain and sugary kisses of youth.

Gast was just handing his credit card to the cashier inside the _Cherry_ boutique, when he looked out the display window and saw that kid crouching down next to Gast’s convertible. He has his backpack on the sidewalk and he’s rummaging through it, stopping to tuck away strands of hair behind his ears when they get in the way.

Gast looks him over, his galaxy-colored eyes twinkling with delight. The kid looks delicious in a pair of faded-grey jeans and a white t-shirt that only has one sleeve.

_“Sir?”_

Gast turns his head to the cashier, brows raised lazily, “yes, dear?”

The cashier holds out a little box for him. There’s a dusty-purple tie inside it, folded like layers of molten chocolate.

“We’d like you to have this. A little gift from us. We love having you here.”

 _Cherry’s_ owner steps in outta nowhere to shake Gast’s hand, all red in the face, cause Gast is loaded and spends a ton of money there every week.

Gast shakes the man’s hand, offers a tight-lipped smile, says something like _nice to meet you_ and _aww you shouldn’t have, although it’s adorable really_ -all the while letting his gaze wander back to the kid that still hasn’t found what he’s looking for inside that little ratty bag of his.

Does he find the boy beautiful? 100% yes. The fact that the boy’s working makes him even more appealing to Gast. Gast knows a hooker when he sees one, and truth is, it gets kinda lonely being in his mansion alone all day. Some company would do him good.

The kid brings his face real close to the wing mirror and runs the pad of his forefinger under his right eye, biting his lip. A case of smudged eyeliner probably.

The crisp sound of bags creaking when you fold clothes into them. The lovely smell of expensive fabrics.

Gast slips his card inside his wallet and that goes into the inner pocket of his beige suit.

The kid puffs out his cheeks and empties the contents of his bag onto the ground.

Gast studies the messy pile of stuff casting a thin shadow onto the pavement while taking out his pen to sign the receipt. A soft cover book (really slim), a shocking-green tube of mascara, some tissues, a set of keys, hand cream, a really cheap pen and pad, and a few dim looking coins.

The kid gets on his knees and starts sorting through the pile.

“Hope you enjoy the tie!” _Cherry’s_ owner says all cheerful, “it’s one of a kind.”

Why, yes it is, Gast thinks. I’ll use it to clear the dust off my reading glasses ASAP.

Gast smiles big at the short man, “ooh, I bet it is!”

The owner wraps his arms around all the bags waiting on the counter, wanting to pick them up, “help you put all those beauties in your car, sir?”

Gast peeks at the kid that’s now checking the tiny pockets he’s got on the sides of the bag.

“Oh, I think I can manage just fine,” Gast says smoothly and tosses him a charming smile while pointing towards the _Cherry’s_ logo on the side of the bag, “stay sweet, guys, _‘kay_?”

He heads out into the purplish afternoon light, four bags in one hand, jangling car keys in the other.

Gast slips his sunglasses on and calls out to the kid while strutting over to him all cool, “hey, need some help there, sweetheart?”

The kid doesn’t even look up.

Gast stops to stand next to him, bags just about brushing the beautiful shoulder that’s missing a sleeve.

“Did you hear what I’ve said?”

The kid starts shoving everything back inside his bag, “yeah.”

“Well, why didn’t you say anything.”

The kid looks up at him and the beauty of his eyes makes Gast bite back a pleased grin.

“Cause I don’t answer to sweetheart.”

“No?” Gast looks amused, “what _do_ you answer to?”

“Loki,” The kid says.

“A-ha.”

Loki feeds his little red tube of strawberry-scented hand cream to the hungry shadows inside his bag and starts picking up the discarded coins one by one.

“Well, Loki,” Gast blinks, startled at how lovely the kid’s name feels on his tongue, “what are you looking for.”

“Why do you care.”

“ _My_ car,” he pauses for effect, “ _my_ right to know.”

Loki looks up and his eyes get kinda hazy when he checks out Gast’s ride.

“Trying to impress me?” he asks and his voice is a light spring breeze.

Gast smiles at him, “why, of course I am.”

Loki slips the change into his pocket and slings the bag over his shoulder, stands up.

Gast puts the bags in the backseat, noticing Loki’s not in a hurry.

Gast slips one hand inside his pocket, uses the fingers of his other hand to touch Loki’s chin lightly, “you working, beautiful?”

Loki’s eyes get all soft.

“Yeah.”

“How much for–god, you smell nice! How much for one hour with you?”

Loki smiles at him, “tell you what. Lost my eyeliner. Get me a new one, and you get the sixty minutes you want.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Gast trails his fingertips over Loki’s soft lips, “how about I’ll be your sugar daddy, and you’ll stick around for a while?”

Loki drops the bag in the backseat.


	5. i'll be your sugar daddy (chapter 2)

Gast always wanted a convertible.

The whole money thing, he wasn’t born with it. His parents weren’t rich, and on most months money was real tight. All the beautiful things he’d only seen in movies or in the magazines that were always lying around—in those it was all colors and fabrics, steel and houses so close to the beach you could smell the ocean in your dreams; it was sunglasses that shine so bright it’s almost like they have some of the sun in them, it was watches and rings, vacations that last forever in places where the moon never shows its face, night clubs that get your blood racing and serve euphoria in shot glasses.

It wasn’t just the convertible he’d wanted, it was all those things. And whenever he would manage to tick one of those items off his list he’d feel his heart expanding with bliss, like the universe.

It wasn’t his first convertible, of course, but it was his favorite. Purchasing it sent a rush of emotions through him that felt so nice he got the urge to grit his teeth and shut his eyes real tight, throw his head back and fucking moan, it was _that_ great.

Why he’s thinking about it now? Cause getting this young beauty to ride with him feels like getting the convertible all over again, pure bliss sprinkled with sweet adrenaline and flowing pleasure that has Gast ready to curl his toes inside his leather shoes.

Is this delectable youth just another item to Gast? Gast has a rule he hates to break: never get all moralistic behind the wheel or in bed, you might embarrass yourself. Yes or no, it doesn’t matter right now, does it? And isn’t anything in this world just another _thing_ you can get? Stuff, people, non-materialistic things. You have enough money you can get ‘em all. Not rent or loan, but keep for as long as you want.

Gast gets bored easily. Doesn’t keep things for long. Sells properties and cars that lose their charming effect on his heart. The effects of magic evaporate quickly, lose their sparkle. For him they turn tasteless after a few months and he’s ready to move on to something else. Get and get rid of, then get more—has always lived by that little useful idea since his bank accounts started to get the tellers interested.

The red convertible cruises all nice and smooth down the road. Dried date-colored palm trees everywhere, bursting from the spaces between the luxurious shops. Gast keeps one hand on the wheel, adjusts his shades with the other.

“Where are we going?”

The scratchy sound of his new acquisition Loki mixes all lovely with the sound of the wind that’s gently ruffling their hair and playing with the delightful mix of   really cheap and really expensive clothes they have on.

“You know, it’s funny you’d ask that,” Gast says, his gaze flickering from one stop light to another, looking all fireplace-red against the sweet backdrop of sunset-purple skies.

Loki gives this tiny frown, taking in the view passively.

“You see-” Gast licks his lips quick, tugs on the lower one for a bit, watching the curvy road with a sparkle in his eye, “this word combination, it’s magic.”

Loki is quite distracted, turning his head to look as they pass by shops that have all kinds of stuff he probably wants to get right there in the display window, winking at him, “is it.”

Gast takes one hand off the wheel. He starts tucking a loose strand of hair behind Loki’s ear and the sudden unexpected touch makes Loki turn his head all fast. Gast pushes it behind Loki’s ear using his little finger and the skin there is all nice and warm and soft.

Gast tilts his head a bit to take as much of Loki’s beauty in and runs a knuckle under Loki’s jaw, starting from that lovely spot behind his ear, all the way to his defiant chin, “why, yes it is.”

With Gast’s hand back on the wheel, Loki studies Gast’s face.

Gast smiles to himself. You touch a person, you do it nice and sweet, it gets that person all curious. You touched them and now they look at you differently, like they’re trying to see where that touch came from, what kind of memories and feelings are attached to those traveling fingers, that wandering hand.

“ _Where are we going_ , thinks the traveler, meaning his body and spirit of course, as he’s watching the line of the horizon sparkling white in the distance. _What will we see, what will we learn_ ,” Gast says and pauses, slowing the car to let some people pass.

“The beauty of those words is—they can take you everywhere. You wonder and you explore, you discover. Then you rest, with your heart full of knowledge.”

Crosswalk clear, Gast shifts gears and off they go again.

“That’s such a travel book answer,” Loki says and Gast huffs out a laugh, rounds a corner.

Gast points to a huge cosmetics shop. His watch catches the light and it skitters all over Loki’s face.

Loki squints at him, kinda surprised, “you really getting me the eyeliner?”

“We agreed on something earlier, sweetheart. Didn’t we?”

Loki’s quick to answer, “maybe I didn’t really think you meant it. Like seriously. The whole sugar daddy stuff.”

“Never heard of it before?” Gast asks him, all ready to start explaining the basics of this kind of relationship.

“I have. But that’s the thing, it’s only something you hear about. I have friends working the streets and yeah, some of them get lucky and sleep with someone who has a lot of money for like forty minutes or something, but that’s it. No one has a—”

Gast catches Loki’s eye and smiles all slow and meaningful, kinda amused that Loki doesn’t know a lot about all this and also looks a little bit shy; and turned on cause having a sugar baby of your own is one of the best feelings in the whole world.

“Sugar daddy,” Gast says it for him, “you can say it, no need to get shy about it. It’s a beautiful thing, you know. There’s nothing wrong about it. We have some fun and I look after you, make sure you have everything you need and everything you want. A sweet deal for a sweetheart such as yourself.”

Loki thinks about it for a bit while Gast’s pulling up into the parking lot.

“Are there any rules?” Loki asks and tries not to smile, “like this list where it says what I get if I suck you off, or something?”

Gast raises his brows a bit, reversing into a parking space, “now there’s an idea.”

“Have you done this before?”

“I have this thing I like to say,” Gast says and Loki watches the back of his head, the way all that magnificent grey hair is combed back, very business-like, “you really enjoy something, always do it more than once.”

“Is that a yes.”

Gast kills the engine and turns to look at Loki, eyes twinkling all playful, “will it make you feel any better if I tell you each time I get myself a new sweetheart it feels like I’m doing this for the first time?”

“Actually, no,” Loki says, “you having all this experience with this is a kinda turn on for me. I like it.”

“Look at that sweet mouth go. You’ll charm the money right out of my pockets in no time at all.”

Before they go in, Gast puts his things in the trunk along with Loki’s bag. In this side of town you don’t really get people grabbing stuff from your car, but hey you never know. He doesn’t want to lose all those lovely clothes and shoes he’d just bought, and also doesn’t want someone to take Loki’s bag. He has a feeling most of the things this boy owns are in there and losing them is like losing a part of your life. Gast could replace all of them easily if they got stolen—he’d seen the contents of Loki’s bag when he emptied it right there in the middle of the sidewalk and everything was crazy cheap– but you can’t replace the memories attached to them.

“I’ve never been here before,” Loki says as they step inside the well-lit boutique.

“It’s a lovely little spot, this place,” Gast says and taps his own cheek twice, “keeps this skin hydrated and this middle-aged heart happy.”

There’s a vase full of white roses on a table right in the middle of the shop and some comfy looking places to sit. Smells all sweet, like you’ve stepped right into Venus’s bedroom.

Gast spots Gina. High heels and blonde hair, looking all elegant, she beams when she sees him. He smiles when she pulls him in for a hug and kisses both his cheeks. She’s a first class bitch and when someone’s that awesome at being horrible sometimes you can’t help but like them.

“You smell wonderful!” she says, sniffing the collar of his shirt, “it’s our Spring Bloom, isn’t it.”

“Why, of course dear,” Gast smiles all wide, “it smells like a millennia of happiness.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Then she spots Loki and her face falls immediately. She looks him over cause torn shirt and ripped jeans.

“Be nice now, Gina.”

Gast swears he can see her biting her tongue to keep from saying something nasty.

“I _am_ nice,” she says and plasters on a bright pink smile.

“We’ll see,” Gast says and puts his hand on Loki’s shoulder, “we’re here for all that lovely stuff the ancient Egyptians used to put just under their eyes, that one thing that turns beautiful into stunning with a swift precise brush of color, the forever in fashion, forever in our hearts: the glorious eyeliner. Have any around here?”

Gina goes on and on about what kind of shop they’d be if they didn’t have those around as she guides them to the right place, high ponytail swinging from side to side like a pendulum.

“Is it for you?” she asks Gast when they get to one of the eyeliner display stands—the most expensive brand of course cause you’ve got a wealthy costumer coming in you don’t offer them the cheap stuff, you don’t let them off easy.

Gast puts a hand to his heart, “dear god, no!”

“You have lovely eyes.”

“I lived through the 80’s, darling. I put some of this on, I look like a suicidal raccoon. Not a pretty sight.”

“Oh, nonsense.”

“Swear to god.”

Then, nodding at Loki, “boy lost his eyeliner.”

Gina looks from one to the other then asks: “he’s your son?”

Loki’s butting into the conversation before Gast has a chance to reply, smiling all crooked, “not my real dad but he’s my daddy, yeah.”

Gast gives him a _ooooooh_ look and Loki looks away smiling, hands in his pockets, point of one of his boots sticking up.

Gina’s kinda confused right now, Gast can tell. But she motions Loki over and starts asking him what color he wants, what kinda brush and Gast watches all delighted as Loki puts some on using the tester one.

“Look at that beautiful line,” Gast says to Gina without taking his eyes off Loki, “boy can be an architect.”

Loki picks the _winter night black_ , rolls it around in his hand.

Gast spots him staring at some mascara.

“How about some lash magic, too?” Gast says to Gina.

Loki looks up at him, surprised and he’s stunningly beautiful.

Gast winks at him, “c'mon” and follows Gina.

When they leave the shop, Loki’s carrying a bag full of awesome stuff to play with in front of the mirror and he looks like he’s over the moon.

“So,” Loki says when they’re sitting all nice and comfortable in Gast’s convertible, “do I _say_ thank you for this or—”

He puts his hand on Gast’s thigh and lets it travel up till his fingers hold onto Gast’s belt buckle, “do I _show_ you how grateful I am?”


	6. scar

Thor checks the dishwasher. Plucks out a tall glass. Their dad is really neat and clean and all, but he lets the dishwasher run then forgets all about putting all the plates and glasses and mugs away when its done. Maybe letting Frigga do all the work while he’s figuring out new ways to trick his business partners is just easier.

Thor sets the glass onto the countertop. As he’s heading for the fridge he spots Loki through the huge patio doors. It’s sunny out, really hot too, but Loki’s wearing his usual black and looks all serious. He appears to be reading, too.

Thor blinks, keeping Loki in his sight whilst reaching for the juice carton. He’s feeling himself smiling and when his eyes crinkle at the corners he lets his gaze drop to Loki’s pale hands. So shy they were yesterday, hesitant but soft, nice and cool on the back of Thor’s neck, setting up anchor there because he wasn’t really sure where he was allowed touch his older brother and how. It was their first time after all.

Same hands now, a book in the right one, a bright blue marker pen In the other, marking words in the sunlight.

There’s a glass door standing between them and Loki’s absorbed in what he’s doing, not looking up at all and Thor thinks it’s the weirdest thing because Loki hates going outside when the sun is out, and it’s unlike Thor to stay indoors when it’s such a beautiful day out.

The coolness of the tiles under his bare feet reminds him of the here and now and he tugs on the juice carton’s folded up bit. He gives the carton a little shake. Not a lot of OJ left. He leaves the glass on the countertop, slams the fridge door shut with his shoulder and takes the carton with him on his way to the patio.

It’s the sweet sound of his feet on the beige tiles and the sparks of sunlight on Loki’s lashes and Thor drinks straight from the carton, gulps the juice down, big mouthfuls of it because he can, because it’s his to take, because sometimes in life you can have as much as you want of something, it’s that simple.

He stands behind the doors for a while. Watches Loki.

_*_

_You have a freckle._

_Where?_

Loki touched the side of Thor’s nose, _right here._

They sat together on Thor’s bed .It was night out but the bedside lamp was on, casting a sleepy glow. Their parents were sleeping and the house was quiet.

Thor looked from one of Loki’s eyes to the other _, just the one?_

_A ton of them. They’re all over the place. I’ve just never seen this one before._

_You don’t have any_ , Thor said. _Not a huge surprise there, the sun’s like your archenemy or something._

Loki smiled and Thor touched Loki’s earlobe with his thumb.

_You have this scar, though._

Loki gave a little nod, _from the botched piercing yeah._

_I remember._

_*_

Loki spots Thor standing there. The sun is really bright and it’s all in his face but he doesn’t shield his eyes from it, just squints a little, gives Thor this really long look that says _now I know you, I’ve seen your heart from the inside and it’s beautiful._

Thor slides the door open and walks into the sunlight.  Loki watches him move closer, pressing his thin palm onto the open book and the edges of the pages flutter in the wind and the sound of it is lovely.

“Father will have your head, you know.”

Thor smiles all crooked, holds the juice carton up like _oh cause of this thing?_

“He hates it when you do that.”

Thor takes a seat on the floor at Loki’s feet, sets the OJ next to a fallen cushion that’s all ancient colors and golden threads.

Loki’s got his shoes on. He never wears them around the house unless he’s going somewhere or just got back from wherever.

Thor tugs on the laces so Loki will feel it.

Thor looks up at him, “been somewhere?”

“Going.”

“Where ya headed?”

Loki points the marker pen at his own heart.

*

_I remember one summer—_

Loki looked up at Thor. Thor was sitting on the edge of the bed and Loki was right there next to him, one of his legs behind Thor’s back and the other resting across Thor’s lap. The moon glinted bronze between the tree branches scratching the bedroom window.

_–Mom made a cake._

_Now, that’s a first._

Thor tried holding his smile in, _Loki._

Loki got more serious, _she doesn’t really do that anymore. The cake thing. She used to, right? But dad thought it was a waste of time. You’re spoiling the kids, he used to say. All the sugar’s going to ruin their smiles. He tried putting it on that but he just hated her paying attention to us._

Thor gave a thoughtful nod. Loki was probably right, he never really thought about it before.

_She used to put that food coloring stuff in ‘em. It was supposed to be strawberry cake so she went with the red one._

_This is going somewhere, isn’t it?_ Loki smiled slow, _don’t tell me I found the bottle and done something embarrassing._

 _It wasn’t embarrassing,_ Thor said, _you got some of the red in your palm, dripping all over the place. Mom was like going to get some paper towels to just clean everything up and you sat down on the floor—_

_Oh god._

Thor smiled softly, meeting Loki’s eyes, _you drew a heart with it, right there on the tiles._

Loki studied Thor’s eyes, loving the fondness he found there, _you remembered._

_Of course I did._

Loki tried, _cause it was really awkward and weird?_

 _No,_ Thor crinkled some of Loki’s skinny jeans between his fingers, pressing the inner part of Loki’s thigh against his chest, _cause it was special._

_*_

Thor gives this little frown.

Loki pulls his legs up and sits cross-legged on the coffee colored couch with all its colorful cushions, setting the book on his thigh.

“I’m trying to…”

Loki licks his lips all swift, pushes a strand of hair behind his ear. Thor spots the faint scar right there on his earlobe, the one he touched yesterday really gentle, as if the wound was still fresh and could hurt.

“Make sense of it.”

Loki meets Thor’s gaze and holds it and his voice comes out all scratchy, “what we’ve done.”

*

A kiss in the dark. Loki’s toes pressing into Thor’s thigh. The floor glinting in the moonlight like a mirror. Loki’s warm cheeks under Thor’s large palms. Loki’s lashes, Loki’s soft mouth, Loki’s body heat soaking into Thor’s t shirt, feeling like spring warmth.

Thor pulled back, caught the moment Loki opened his eyes. What he’s done, it caught both of them by surprise. They sat there in the dark listening to the silence of the house, dreading the sound of a bed creaking, an awareness of wrong things happening in the heavy shadows of sleeping furniture.

Thor looked down, suddenly abashed. Blinked at the crinkled sheets, at the stitching in Loki’s jeans, at Loki’s pale hand reaching for his.

Loki took Thor’s hand and pressed its strong palm to his chest. Held it there, then dragged it upwards so it was stroking his neck, the side of his face.

Thor cupped Loki’s cheek and ran his thumb over the scar again.

 _We look all the time,_ Thor said, _but there are things we never see._

_*_

Thor eases himself down next to Loki.

Loki places the book over their thighs that are pressed together.

Thor looks down at it. Notices Loki highlighted a few words in the book, all the way down some page.

Thor traces the first word with his finger.

_Will._

Finds another highlighted word almost at the bottom of the page.

_It._

Next page.

_Leave._

A tiny one at the center there.

_A._

The sun warms their shoulders and their shadows paint the tiles grey.

Thor licks his finger and turns the page.

He stares at the last word for a while, the paper coarse under his thumb.

_Scar._

_*_

Loki’s warm body in Thor’s arms. The sheets all tangled up around their ankles. Loki embracing Thor’s neck, lashes fluttering against Thor’s strong shoulder. The sound of their galloping hearts filling the room with warmth.

*

Thor scans the page and uncaps Loki’s marker pen with his teeth.

When he starts highlighting words, the sound it makes is like sunlight rushing towards the earth.

Loki follows the swift, sure strokes of blue as they appear on the page.

_I._

Another word in the middle there.

_Won’t._

Thor bites his lip. He can’t find the word he’s looking for so he licks his finger again and turns the page.

The tip of the marker pen hovers over the sugar-white page, gently rocks to the beat of Thor’s heart.

Then it dives down.

_Let._

Slowly now.

It.

*


	7. crescent moon

 

 

 

 

“Hey, come here. Let me have a look at that.”

Loki was just about to head back up to his room with a delicious little piece of chocolate cake when Odin motioned him over with two fingers and this _what the hell is that_ look in his eyes.

Loki kinda stops in his tracks with the plastic fork clutched between his front teeth, “have a look at what?”

Odin just motions him over again, tossing this morning’s newspaper onto the coffee table, still in his suit cause he just got back from work.

Loki walks over to him, shuffling his feet.

Odin takes Loki’s chin in his hand and tilts Loki’s head back a bit.

He tugs on Loki’s upper lip with his meaty thumb and Loki kinda flinches. Not just cause it stings having Odin’s thumb there on the little pink tear in his lip, but also cause he suddenly gets what got Odin so curious.

“What’s this?” Odin blinks at Loki with his frail grey lashes.

Loki just shrugs. Playing dumb usually does the trick. He’s been doing that for a while now and it seems to be working fine. Odin asks a lot of questions these days and Loki and Thor do a lot of shrugging. Yeah, people say Odin’s got a good head on his shoulders, but sometimes he can be really clueless.

Loki moves the plastic plate (they have some extra ones lying around the house cause Thor just had his birthday two weeks ago and it was a huge party with all his friends minus parents of course and a ton of really bad music that makes you feel like you’re losing your mind) to his right hand and kinda pushes Odin’s hand away with his left, “well, don’t poke it like that, it burns.”

Odin gives him this look like he’s trying to read an article on his phone but the letters are really tiny and he can’t make them out, “did you bite it?”

Loki examined it in the bathroom mirror for a while this morning, feeling all tingly and euphoric. It had some dried blood in it. The tear looked like a crescent moon.

 Another shrug, “probably.”

Then Loki points to the cake with his fork, “want some?”

Moves around Odin, heads for the stairs, almost running.

Thor appears at top of the stairs, checking his phone, looking gorgeous, heading down, probably to the kitchen cause favorite place in the world.

Thor brushes shoulders with him, stares at Loki’s lip with a hungry smirk, “looks good on you. Did I do that.”

“Jerk,” Loki whispers in his ear, smiling all crooked, "those are battle scars, you savage."

"You know you love it rough."

 

 


	8. sweat and gasoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (thorki, criminal!thor, partner in crime!loki, Thor’s hot and horny in this one, loki’s just as bad)

Loki sits cross-legged on the hood of Thor’s cobra-colored convertible, flipping through a fashion magazine.

It’s one of those insanely hot mid July days, middle of the day and even though the car is parked in the shade of a bunch of trees that smell really minty, Loki’s sweating all over.

He can smell the gas station from here. The spicy odor of gasoline, the fried smell of summer sunshine, the sticky scent of tires, they make his heart race and the magazine pages flutter in the wind between his thin fingers.

They left the car doors open on their way out so the convertible looks like a winged creature resting belly-down on the crazy hot ground, ready to soar towards the sky and tear it apart. The key is in the ignition and the engine is running. Loki’s back and ribs vibrate nice and electric, and he wets one finger and turns the page.

On page 46 there’s a pic of a catwalk somewhere in Paris and everyone’s got some complicated suits on, trying to impress; while not too far from where Loki’s sitting an armed robbery is taking place.

Loki pauses with his forefinger half in his mouth cause those pages just won’t budge and looks up from the magazine sitting all light in his lap. There’s the gas station right there, red roof, yellow walls, no one around, just the cashier, and Thor with his ski mask and his Glock G21.

Loki reaches for his phone. Checks the time. It’s been five minutes already. But there’s the whole _I’m gonna walk in like a normal dude, check the cooler and snacks area, make ya think I’m not looking for trouble before I pull out my gun_ bit, that takes like two minutes. The rest depends on how badly the cashier’s hands shake when they extract the cash and hand it over.

Loki puts the phone back in his pocket and blows the hair away from his face.

The magazine’s pages feel warm under Loki’s palms. That warmth, it reminds him of Thor’s strong chest and back and how touching him always feels like he’s touching the sun and he loves the way it burns.

They’ve been doing this for a year now, living off stolen cash. They didn’t have that much in the beginning but now they do and Thor just keeps doing it.

_You know what I think?_ Loki said to Thor one night when Thor was buried deep inside him and the twinkling desert stars painted his huge muscular shoulders warm silver.

Thor pulled back and buried himself even deeper, quirking a brow at Loki all vain like _no, what?_

Loki lost his train of thought for a second when the heat of Thor’s body surrounding him and the chilly Arizona desert wind kissing a trail down his exposed neck were all that mattered to him at that moment.

 _This whole robbing people thing,_ Loki said looking up to meet Thor’s eyes in the dark, and smirked, _you kinda get off on it don’t you? I mean there’s the pre robbery fucking. And then there’s the post robbery fucking and-you put your hands on me after you’ve handled that gun and you’re outta control._

Loki let out a tiny sound when the feeling of Thor filling him completely became too delicious to handle and wrapped his legs tighter around Thor’s waist, pressing down on his spine to bring him even closer and push him in deeper.

 _I think it’s turning into a problem,_ Loki teased, _wanna talk to someone about it-_

Thor covered Loki’s mouth with his giant palm and Loki’s eyes twinkled mischievously in the dark.

Loki bit that hand later, leaving five pink delicious teeth marks behind. Thor called him a crazy bitch and flipped Loki onto his stomach, smiled in his ear as he fucked him hard, pressing Loki’s cheek down against the leather seat of the sleeping convertible parked in the cold midnight sands.

A crystalline flash of light-the gas station’s door flying open.

There’s Thor rushing towards the car, bag full of money on his shoulder, gun shoved under his belt, tearing the ski mask off without missing a step.

Loki slams the magazine closed and slides off the hood of the car. Peeks at the gas station. The door slides closed really slow and no one’s coming after Thor with a shotgun or anything. Loki checks the phone again.

“Seven minutes,” Loki slides his sunglasses on, “someone’s getting rusty.”

Thor picks the magazine off the hood of the car and tosses it into the backseat, followed by his bag.

Two huge steps and his arm wraps around Loki’s waist, pulling him close roughly.

Loki smells sunlight and adrenaline and sweat and lets Thor walk them backwards till Loki’s body is pressed against the side of the car.

“Can I ever get you to shut up?” Thor murmurs.

He’s all dirty blonde hair, scratchy stubble and a black cut off shirt, tall and heavy and violent and Loki’s heart pounds so hard it hurts right in the middle of his chest.

“How about some gunplay later,” Loki suggests and Thor leans in, pressing his warm mouth hard against Loki’s lips.

“Get in the car,” Thor says into Loki’s mouth and his voice is strained, eyes all hungry.

Thor gives Loki some space and Loki hops into the passenger seat. Thor crashes behind the wheel and before Loki knows it the car races down the road, running over outstretched shadows of tall dry trees standing all dizzy in the sun.

“How much,” Loki asks.

“Around eight hundred.”

Loki takes the ski mask off Thor’s lap, holds it close to his face. It has Thor’s spicy aftershave scent all over it.

They’re driving so fast Loki feels weightless and the sun’s heat on his face makes him feel all euphoric.  

They stop at some cheap motel around an hour later. Loki acts all flirty with the older male receptionist just to get on Thor’s nerves cause Thor just got eight hundred dollars real easy, his day is going way too good.

Despite all of Loki’s cute little tricks, when Thor closes the door behind them and they’re all alone in their tiny sunshine-colored room with their bag full of money at the foot of the bed, Loki pulls Thor on top of him and works on unzipping Thor’s jeans impatiently.

Thor smirks, grabs a fistful of Loki’s shirt and sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of Loki’s throat, kissing and sucking hungrily. Then he presses his mouth to Loki’s ear.

“You know what I think?” he says.

Loki just moans and shakes his head a little.

Thor slides his hand down Loki’s slender body, slips it inside his tight skinny jeans.

“The whole robbing people thing,” Thor repeats word for word and Loki grabs his hand, keeps it in place because it feels amazing, just where he wants it.

“You kinda get off on it, don’t you,” Thor finishes and Loki feels him smiling against the side of his neck.

Haughty son of a bitch.


	9. dulcis mortem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (dom Thor working in the BDSM club dulcis mortem gets invited to a party held by the owner of dulcis mortem Gast at his mansion. There’s a special reason why Thor’s invited. thorki, some frostmaster, dub con, en dwi gast and taneleer tivan appear here, dom!thor sub!loki, nsfw kinda)

Thor’s sitting out on the balcony enjoying his second shot of vodka for the day. He’s planning on napping on the sofa for a bit ‘till it’s time for him to go to work. He’s a dom at this club, _dulcis mortem_. It pays the bills and it’s awesome cause he can go crazy violent and still get paid for it—big bucks from the managers, blowjobs and rough sex from some of the subs when his shift ends.  

He sits there kinda daydreaming with the glass in his hand and the sun on his hair when the fuckers just arrive outta nowhere.

Now, it’s true that he has this really annoying habit of never bolting the door, but he’s been living in this apartment for the last two years and so far had no unexpected visitors. First time for everything, right?

But, hey, footsteps getting closer from behind. Two pairs of expensive shoes by the sound of it. Sounds nice, the soft crackling of fine leather, and the mechanical hum of New York’s wind rubbing itself against his eardrum.

Thor turns his head to look.

One black haired dude, shiny black tie. One blonde, tongue-red tie. Really taking their time on their way to where he’s at. The blonde bloke got an apple in his hand, really red and still in one piece.

“Who keeled over?” Thor says drily cause what they’re wearing is super somber, black silky suits you’d only wear to some mobster’s funeral or a fucking shootout, ready to go out in style.

His mind takes him back in time as he sits there sipping the chilly vodka.

Didn’t smack anyone around recently, doesn’t have any debts.

“What if I said _you_?” black tie says, sliding the balcony door to the left so his giant companion will have enough room to follow in his footsteps.

Thor raises his brows at him, looking bored.

He tilts his head back and polishes off what’s left of his post lunch friendly dose of alcohol. He slams the shot glass on the table, wipes his mouth and gets to his feet, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

Black tie stands in the doorway, the blonde dude’s fat head visible just over his right shoulder, sweat glistening on his forehead and all cause it’s hot as fuck outside.

“I’d say _ha_ ,” Thor replies and looks black tie over, trying to spot a gun or a knife. Finds none, but maybe it’s in one of the inner pockets of that fucking Armani suit. Or maybe red tie is packing a nine, better be careful.

“Share?” black tie points to the bottle of Smirnoff and the sleeve rides up his arm.

Thor’s eyes latch onto that bare spot of skin, spotting a scar that runs all around the bony wrist like a bracelet, twisting like a snake under a fresh coating of jet black ink.

Thor smirks.

The dude had a sub’s tattoo done, got it removed and got a dom’s tattoo over it to cover it up.

Thor knows what these look like. He has a dom’s tattoo himself. You work at _dulcis mortem_ you have to get one done, it’s part of the job.  The one the paid subs get looks like a silk thread wrapping around the wrist; the dom’s like a motorbike chain, cool shading and all.

Thor smiles all slow and cocky, “why don’t _you_ pour me another. Since you’re so eager to serve.”

Black tie gets why the sudden change to Thor’s attitude and tugs on the sleeve to cover the scar, looks all butthurt when he says: “I’m not a sub anymore, fuck you.”

“Once a sub, always a sub,” Thor spits out, “now take a walk before I break your fucking neck.”

These guys dropping by his place, it’s got something to do with work and he can’t even tense up cause he’s not worried they’ll put a bullet through his head anymore.

The dude shoots him a foul look but doesn’t budge. Submissives get like that sometimes, defiant. You just gotta break them the right way. They end up loving you for it.

“The walk thing. Not gonna happen,” he takes a few steps towards Thor, reaches inside his suit, “I have something I need to give you.”

Is he gonna pull out a gun after all?

Red tie eyes him all grumpy from the doorway, the folds in his neck all shiny with sweat, toying with the apple in his hands.

Black tie sets a peach colored card on the glass table, presses down on it with his finger for a few secs to make sure Thor is paying attention.

“There’s a party tonight,” he says to Thor and traps the card under the empty shot glass so the wind won’t take it away, “at this address. Starts at midnight. Be there.”

Screw this.

“Nah,” Thor shrugs, snapping his gum, and pours another shot for himself, “don’t feel like it.”

The guy meets Thor’s eyes and says really slow so Thor will get it, “saying no is not an option, you’re Gast’s special guest.”

Thor pulls a face, “who the fuck is Gast?”

Looks like the guy is smiling in slow motion, eyes twinkling cause Thor just made a huge mistake and it’s delicious to see people fucking up their own lives in a matter of seconds without even realizing it.

“He’s the one that puts all that money in your pocket,” black tie says, points a thumb over his shoulder, “makes it possible for you to afford this place. You, me, my friend over here, we all work for him. He wants you to be somewhere, you better make sure you get there.”

Ah.

Gast’s the owner of _dulcis mortem_. There’s a chain of those all over the US. Dude must be loaded.

“Sorry,” Thor empties the glass in one go, “got other plans, guys. Now get the fuck out.”

Red tie steps out onto the balcony. Thor’s 6'4 but this guy’s like 6'7 or something. Stands next to black tie like an independent shadow.

“You don’t make an appearance,” black tie says, “you lose your job. And—”

A silver flash catches Thor’s attention. Red tie pulls out a pocket knife, curved blade.

He holds the apple between thumb and middle finger so Thor sees what he’s doing and slashes it in half. One swipe, horizontal line.

The two pieces of the apple hit the floor with a wet thud.

One piece rolls around till it hits Thor’s bare foot then stands still.

Black tie finishes simply, “your head.”

That threat, it’s not what convinces Thor to go. Stupid apple-slicing tricks aside, Thor’s kinda curious to see what it’s all about. Sending two dudes to scare him into attending this party, it has to be something interesting and Thor’s always been the biggest adrenaline junkie. Plus, he just doesn’t want to lose his job, black tie was right, it pays the bills and keeps the cupboard full of those sweet red-labeled Smirnoff bottles he can’t live without.

Black vest with a high collar and no shirt underneath, dirty blonde hair and attitude. He’s ready to go.

Gast lives in this insanely huge mansion.

Driving up the hill spotting it growing between the trees it looks like a fucking chandelier. Light in every window, all over the yard, climbing up and spinning around the giant fountain so it looks like it’s spraying diamonds instead of water. With the snow-white walls and the glinting lights it looks like an oversized crown.

Thor flashes the card black tie gave him when he arrives at the door. They let him in and he comes face to face with a whirlwind of formal dress code and a huge amount of delicious leather. You’ve got the doms and the subs, and you’ve got the rich people sampling kinks, enjoying the view.

It’s not classical music flowing between the rows of champagne glasses and food trays, it’s something wild and primal and Thor notices he’s starting to sweat.

Black tie just pops out of nowhere, pupils all blown out, mouth cherry-red.

“Smart choice,” he says.

Thor can see the heated pool from where he’s standing. It glows like a sheet of nylon in the moonlight, steam rising from it like a screen of fog.

Black tie tilts his head towards the stairs leading to the first floor.

Thor doesn’t help himself to anything on his way up. He just doesn’t feel like eating or drinking or sniffing coke.

Some of the doors upstairs are halfway open and people are fucking inside. Some people just like to be watched.

Thor and black tie pass by the rooms and it’s flashes of naked thighs, collared necks, soft bellies, twisting sheets, open mouths, creaking beds, whips hitting sweaty flesh, the metallic clinking of handcuffs, and Thor feels that lovely tightening in his belly that makes his cheeks feels warm and his clothes feel too tight.

Thor’s dad always made him feel small. Being a dom now, Thor enjoys making others feel small. Having this ultimate control over someone, he gets off on it. Twisted or not, that’s the truth.

Black tie leads Thor to another section of the house. There, most of the rooms are locked and there’s so much silence floating around you can easily grab fistfuls of it and stuff ‘em inside your pockets for later. Giant windows to Thor’s right overlooking the miles and miles of Gast’s land, shadowed by massive trees.

Black tie points to a room. Double doors. Doesn’t stay to see Thor walk in.

This bedroom is bigger than Thor’s entire apartment. There’s a bed smack in the middle of it, cream colored sheets and embroidered pillows.

A young man is sitting on the edge of it. Looks up when the doors open and Thor walks in. He has a black silk dress-shirt on with the two top buttons undone, black dress pants and nice shoes. Long wavy hair cascading down his shoulders. He’s sitting on the edge there, clutching onto the sheets, a beautiful mix of anxious and excited.

Thor’s gaze flickers downwards to the guy’s wrist. There’s the sub tattoo right there. It looks like he just got it done a few days ago, the black ink shining like metal in the sun.

At the same time, the guy spots Thor’s dom tattoo and licks his lips while raising his eyes expectantly to Thor’s.

A door slides open somewhere in the room.

A man emerges from the left, black suit jacket, crisp-white dress shirt with the collar undone, lead-colored hair parted on the right.

Another man follows, white suit jacket, navy-blue dress-shirt, rough gold chain around his neck. He’s in his forties but he’s got shocking white hair all slicked back. He’s wiping his nose so his nostrils will look cocaine free.

The man in black spots Thor and smiles slow.

“Head still on your shoulders, I see,” he says, amused, closes the doors behind Thor and comes back to stand in front of him, “hope you didn’t take my boys too seriously. Crowley can be a little dramatic sometimes.”

Thor quirks a brow, “we talking about the apple slayer?”

“HA!”

The man has a nice and short laughing fit and claps Thor on the shoulder.

“Apple slayer!” then over his shoulder at the man in white, “catch that?”

The man in white grabs a pack of Marlboros off the bedside table, shakes his lighter out, sniffs drily.

“That’s a good one,” the man in black says, smiling lines still etched all over his face, “Crowley will love that.”

Thor seriously doubts that.

He decides to cut to the chase, “so what do you want from me?”

“Hey now, wait a minute, wait a minute. Before we get to that. A little introduction.”

Thor wets his lips and squints a little at him, “you’re Gast, right.”

The man in black presses a giant palm to his chest, “why, yes I am. And this, is Tivan.”

The man in white looks up when he hears Gast saying his name, cigarette sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He’s sitting on the bed right next to the young guy, one hand braced on the mattress behind him. Their thighs are touching and Tivan is smoking with his head tilted really close to the guy’s shoulder. The guy looks kinda uncomfortable.

Gast moves to stand to Thor’s left and his eyes move hungrily over the guy’s slender figure, “and this right here—”

Tivan puffs on his cigarette, turns his head in the guy’s direction and blows a thin trail of smoke over those young lips and neck.

Gast smiles dreamily at the gesture, “—is the reason why you’re here today.”

Gast starts walking towards the bed, motions for Thor to follow.

“This is Loki,” Gast says, walking leisurely with his hands in his pockets.

Tivan lets his gaze wander to Loki’s mouth as he grabs the cigarette between forefinger and thumb and plucks it from between his lips.

“He’s our newest—” Gast bites his lips and smiles over his shoulder at Thor, “acquisition.”

He moves all lazy and light, never letting Loki out of his sight.

“Joined _dulcis mortem_ two weeks ago.”

Gast bends over, one hand on the bed, the other sliding down Loki’s left arm. He closes his fingers around Loki’s wrist and lifts it so Thor can see the tattoo and so he himself can marvel at its beauty and at the glorious future it holds for this lovely youth.

Tivan crosses one leg over the other, scattering the burning ashes inside the ashtray on the floor, eyes now only halfway open.

Gast inspects Loki’s tat from up close, running his thumb over it, “and what lovely two weeks those have been.”

Thor pauses a few feet away from the bed. Two weeks, but he’s never seen Loki around the club.

Tivan pushes his nose in Loki’s hair and Loki looks down, keeping his arm slack in Gast’s grip.

“See—” Gast manages to take his eyes off Loki for a few secs to meet Thor’s gaze,“the training period for new subs is four weeks. I’m sure you know that.”

He does. The doms call it the breaking period. It’s fucking and humiliating till you learn to accept that your body doesn’t belong to you anymore.

Thor nods.

“So it's—” Gast sits on the bed to Loki’s left, “two weeks gone.”

Tivan, forehead pressed to the side of Loki’s face, tucks a strand of hair behind Loki’s ear then runs his fingers down the back of his neck.

“—Two to go,” Gast says.

Thor kinda shrugs, “what’s it got to do with me?”

“Well,” Gast smiles at Tivan, “my brother and I. We’re going on a business trip tomorrow. Heart of Europe. Three weeks. We can’t take him with us.”

Thor waits for him to get to the point.

“We need someone to,” Gast rests his chin on Loki’s shoulder, “complete his training while we’re away.”

Oh.

“Why me?”

“You are our, and,” he holds one finger up, “our clients’ favorite dom.”

He tugs on Loki’s arm and presses Loki’s palm to the side of his own face, “we have a nickname for you.”

His eyes twinkle up at Thor, “want me to tell you what it is?”

“Why not.”

Gast closes his fingers hard around Loki’s wrist and smiles, all pleased with himself, at Thor, “we call you _no mercy_.”

Thor bites his lips. He kinda likes that.

“So we thought—”

Tivan’s hand arrives from behind, wrapping itself around Loki’s throat and Loki blinks at the unexpectedness of it. He pulls Loki back and down so Loki’s lying on the bed. He traps Loki’s right arm under his thigh and Gast holds Loki’s left arm down next to Loki’s head.

“— _you_ would be perfect for this,” Gast says.

Tivan dumps the cigarette in the ashtray and gets on his knees on the bed, next to Loki’s head, catching some of Loki’s beautiful dark hair under his knee. Gast hands him Loki’s other wrist as well, and Tivan pins both above Loki’s head, fingers digging into the pale flesh.

Gast tugs on the ends of Loki’s dress-shirt, frees them from under the silent belt.

Thor walks up to the bed and Loki blinks up at him, lips parted, eyes searching Thor’s eyes to see what he’d find there.

“Miles and miles,” Gast murmurs, unbuttoning Loki’s shirt one button at a time, “of milky-white skin.”

The shirt falls open and Gast presses the side of his face to Loki’s chest, palm pressed to his flat stomach, listening to the young heart galloping against the ribs.

“And panicked heartbeats,” Gast adds softly.

Gast closes his eyes briefly, smiling, “music to my ears.”

Gast tugs on the collar of his shirt a little, then unbuckles Loki’s belt.

Loki tenses up.

Thor watches Gast tugging on the zipper and pants, exposing Loki’s creamy-white thighs.

Gast slides his hand down the small of Loki’s back. His rolex catches the light for a second amongst all that silky black fabric and bright sheets.

Thor clenches his jaw when Gast’s fingers slip inside Loki.

Loki lets out a strangled cry and Tivan shifts around so he now crushes Loki’s wrists under his knee, and clamps a hand over his mouth, pressing down hard and going _shhh_ in his ear.

Loki closes his eyes, turns his face to the side and Tivan’s hand follows, cupped over his mouth, thumb resting against the side of his nose.

“Did you hear that little sound he just made?” Gast smiles up at Thor, looking all high, “beautiful, isn’t it.”

Gast probably spots how aroused Thor is cause he smiles really wide and runs his tongue over his lips really slow.

“So, what do you say, pretty boy? In or out?”

Thor doesn’t need to think twice about this.

“I’m in.”


	10. water running through his fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki dances for the king of Asgard. AU. tumblr prompt fill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the tumblr prompt --ignore me, I didn't see anything--

Thor tugs on Loki’s wrist.

“Come here.”

Loki presses his tongue to his upper lip; eyeing Thor all flirty and mysterious, letting Thor guide him through the maze of giant sand colored columns. Thor’s fingers get all tangled up in Loki’s golden bracelets. The bracelets rattle like snakes when Loki picks up the pace, almost running now, because Thor’s strides are huge and fast. The urgent sound of Thor’s breathing is lovely, like gusts of desert winds moving mountains of sand and it makes Loki’s cheeks feel hot.

An outdoors bathing area. Turquoise skies overhead. Unlit torches hanging over the smooth rectangular body of water with whispers of smoke from the night’s crackling flames still sticking to the ashen metal.

One swift motion and Loki’s back is pressed against one of the columns. The stone is cold, pressing between his shoulder blades like an ancient spine. Thor’s giant hand in Loki’s hair—one continuous caress starting just above Loki’s ear, moving through his hair to the back of his head and gripping the back of his neck roughly.

_Loki danced for him. A banquet. The dizzying sound of the flute. Loki’s short breaths making the see through black fabric covering his nose and mouth flutter. Countless eyes on him against the backdrop of golden walls and sea blue curtains. Loki on his knees before the king of Asgard, rolling his shoulders, reaching for him with pale hands. Bending backwards until the ends of his hair brush against the tiles. Lying on his back, arching his spine, turning his face to look the king in the eye. Beckon him with a twist of his wrist._

Thor moves his hand up the front of Loki’s neck. Cups the side of his face. Drags his thumb across Loki’s parted lips.

“What does it feel like?”

Thor’s eyes are on him for a moment. Then, strong fingers pull on the shoulder strap of Loki’s tunic.

Loki manages to think he doesn’t know what Thor’s referring to. Then, the feeling  of Thor’s knuckles brushing against his arm as he pulls the strap almost all the way down to Loki’s elbow.

The sound of a flute coming from afar, moving through the halls like a thread of lace.

Thor’s warm mouth on the side of Loki’s neck. A warm blooded predator at the throat of a deer.

Loki follows the movement of Thor’s head from the corner of his eye, breaths coming in short gasps.

A hushed fluttering sound. A fallen leaf lands in the water like a migrating bird.

Thor bites the top of Loki’s shoulder.

Loki presses his temple to the stone. Runs a hand through Thor’s golden hair, combing it back from his forehead.

Thor’s head moves downwards under Loki’s palm.

His mouth closes around Loki’s nipple and Loki closes his eyes, diamond powder sparkling silver on his lids.

Then, against Loki’s lips, “capture a beast’s heart in your hands.”

Two large palms push Loki’s tunic up and around his waist.

Loki sighs and the water ripples silently.

Later, Loki’s all alone in the sunlight. Thor’s shadow is getting farther and farther away until it evaporates behind a mighty column.

Loki slides to the ground. He tugs on the shoulder strap and drags it across his mouth. He bites down on the fabric gently. His body tingles all lovely from head to toe. Thor said he might want to keep him for a while.

A faint scratching sound. Sandals on stone.

Loki turns his head to look, rubs the strap between his fingers.

One of the other male dancers. Stares at Loki knowingly from under one of the archways.

“Clever boy,” he says to Loki, “find your way into his bed and slay him while he sleeps? Slay him the way he’s slayed your kind?”

Loki blinks.

The dancer smiles slow, approvingly, holds his palms up.

“Ignore me,” he says, “I didn’t see anything. I won’t tell. You’re not the only one who wants him dead.”

The dancer leaves and Loki moves around the column. He sits on the edge and puts one hand in the water. He scoops up some water and lets it slowly trickle through his fingers.

He came for revenge. 

He stays for what’s blooming inside his heart. 


	11. you'll be the death of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> loki shows thor's gun some lovin. bankrobbers thor and loki AU

Thor’s loading the revolver.

Two empty beer bottles on the nightstand, sparkly green glass. Small window, no curtains. The sun is going down outside. The trees surrounding the hotel’s parking lot look like used matches. Smells like a forest fire out there, spicy and grey, and the smell is in the room too.

Thor’s half sitting on the bed, feeding the shiny cylinder its daily dose of lead. The bullets are golden with a round silver tip. They kinda look like thimbles.

Loki is raking his fingers through his wet hair, emptying his pockets. He slams a handful of coins onto the table and a few dollar bills. Counts them. Thor slays two packs of Marlboro Reds a day. The day before they pull off a heist it’s 3 packs.

It’s a big day tomorrow so Thor’s already out of cigarettes.

Loki stuffs 20 dollars in his pocket. The rest of the money he leaves on the table. He’ll go get Thor a pack and get some soda for himself.

Thor had one leg pulled close to his chest before, but he was busy with the gun and it kinda fell to the side a little. So Loki can see him from head to toe and Thor’s fucking gorgeous. He doesn’t have a shirt on, just a pair of light blue jeans and a rough sawdust colored belt. A gold watch and a chain, a ring on each thumb. Blonde hair tied back in the ponytail of sex, few loose tendrils brushing past his strong jaw.

They had a busy day today. Drove past the bank. Thor’s elbow was sticking out of the car, a burning cigarette in hand. His eyes were smiling behind the sunglasses’ mirrored lenses. He always does this, the driving by thing, the day before they rob a place. He loves to see everything looking normal before they get there to fuck shit up.

Met up with some guys Thor used to hang out with when he was 15 and being moved from one foster home to another. They took Thor and Loki to this apartment someone’s brother has up for rent and the five of them had some beers and smoked some weed. The three dudes did some crack cocaine too and Thor and Loki fucked in the spare room with the trippy music coming from the living room sticking to their skin like sweat. No talking, just skin on skin, Thor buried so deep inside him it hurt but in the best way, Thor’s hair in Loki’s face, Loki’s leg over Thor’s left shoulder, Thor’s hand around Loki’s throat wanting him to stay still so he can catch the exact moment Loki’s eyes roll in the back of his head as he’s coming with a strangled moan.

Loki watches Thor. The way he’s loading the bullets into the shiny chambers, his lips parted, the tip of his tongue moving against the roof of his mouth, his lids all heavy, it looks like someone has his mouth on him and Thor’s a few short breaths away from a mind blowing orgasm.

Loki pushes away from the table and moves slowly towards the bed, hands in his back pockets.

Thor shoves the last bullet in with a push of his thumb. It clicks into place. He spins the cylinder and it snaps into place.

He tilts his head a little to examine the grip. It’s made of wood, the color of hot caramel with some snakeskin design on it making it look fancy. He turns the revolver over in his hand, his left hand moving over the muzzle, the sight, and the barrel.

Loki squints a little.

In one flowing motion he tucks his hair behind his ear and sits down on the mattress, Thor’s knee nudging the small of his back. Loki squirms a bit cause the raspy lick of denim against his skin where his shirt rode up his spine feels really good.

Thor lowers the gun, pushes his discarded shirt off the bed with his boot. He looks at Loki and lets out this faint hum without even realizing it cause he spots the look on Loki’s face.

“What is it, babe.”

Loki leans over Thor, bracing himself with one hand on the mattress. It’s Thor’s abdomen pressing into Loki’s side and Loki curls his fingers around Thor’s wrist, tugs on it. Thor lifts his hand slowly cause that’s what Loki is trying to get him to do, and he watches him as Loki is dipping his head towards the gun, running his tongue over his lips to make sure they’re wet and shiny enough to provoke a twitch of arousal in Thor’s belly.

Thor’s breath hitches in his throat cause Loki’s looking up at him all playful as he’s closing his lips around the barrel and slowly taking it all into his mouth. It’s grey metal and red lips and Thor exhales all breathy, grinning, cause that’s fucking hot.

“The fuck are you doing, sweetheart.”

Loki pushes the barrel in deeper, runs his tongue over the ejector rod. He closes both his hands around Thor’s wrist to keep it steady and real nice and slow starts bobbing his head up and down, keeping his eyes on Thor.

Thor smoothes the hair from Loki’s face to see better. His hand is big and warm and surprisingly gentle.

Loki licks around the barrel then pulls back to tease at the muzzle with the tip of his tongue. The turned on look on Thor’s face makes him break out into a giant smile that’s all gorgeous crimson lips and sweet white teeth.

“This gun is an extension of you,” Loki says, breath gusting over the barrel, “so I’m giving it the attention it deserves.”

Loki licks the muzzle one more time then presses a kiss to it. Thor bites his lower lip hard.

“You know what,” Thor says, “if the state doesn’t execute me, you’ll be the fucking death of me.”


End file.
